


Priceless

by Lexebug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, EXTREMELY self indulgent porn right here, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, and davekat isn’t a Thing but Karkat DEFINITELY has a crush, but I’m bad at tags so you know what?, kind of??? A little?, terezi n Vriska are dating in this but as matesprits, vriska is mean and I love her, you get what you fuckin get!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexebug/pseuds/Lexebug
Summary: This is just real self indulgent porn but I like to think I did good. There’s like a TINY bit of bloodplay but only bc yknow kismesises and all that, not rlly my jam but I like to be authentic. Overall I am projectingonto Karkat and would like to get absolutely railed by a pretty girl that’s all!!





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah trolls have the same genitals, but secondary sex characteristics differ! Also Vriska is trans but it doesn’t rlly come up so I didn’t tag it, and she has female secondary characteristics bc she’s on troll estrogen (trestrogen?)

Your name is Karkat Van-

“Knock knock, crab boy! Let me in!!”

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and-

“Hey! You in there? Are you????????”

UGH. She keeps knocking at your door. Goddamn spider bitch.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are _trying_ to listen to an audiobook in your respiteblock and relax, but somebody is practically breaking your door down in their urgency to get in. Jesus. 

You reluctantly get up, pausing your book, and swing the door open so fast that Vriska gets caught mid-knock and accidentally knocks on your forehead. Hard. “What. Do. You. Want,” You ask, your forehead stinging. She smiles at you, all fangs, and pushes past you to flop into your beanbag chair. 

“Sick digs ya got here, dude! Mind if I hang out for a bit?” She asks, and while yes, in fact, you DO mind, she’s already sunk so far into the chair that all you can see is her horns and her fingertips, painted an electric blue. 

You groan, but sit next to her on the small armchair you got from Rose, reaching across Vriska for your phone. She can stay, as long as she’s quiet. You don’t know why she’s here, and you don’t particularly care, just so long as you can listen to your book in peace. 

Peace starts to seem like a far-off dream when Vriska grabs your wrist in her long, long fingers (Jesus, was there anything about her that wasn’t spidery?) and pulls your hand down to look at the screen. You try and yank it back, but she’s got a strong grip, and she hauls herself up from the beanbag to look. “Oooh, an audiobook? What’s it about?” You’re about to roll your eyes and tell her to get out, but she reads the title and her face flushes blue. “Holy shit, Vantas, is this _porn?_” You squawk and try, really try this time, to pull your hand back, but Vriska’s got a death grip on your arm now and she’s squinting to read the whole title. “You can’t be serious with this, holy shit.” She starts reading it out loud, and you cringe. It’s. A really, really long title. Her cold fingers hold you tighter with every word, and by the end she’s laughing so hard she can barely finish reading.

“Oh. My GOD, Vantas. Did I _interrupt_ something, hmm?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows and snickering. You hiss a breath in between your teeth and she lets go of your wrist, letting you snatch your phone to your chest. You try not to notice how hard your heart is beating. She’s looking at you and giggling, and you hiss at her before turning your whole body away, hunching into the corner. 

“Hey, hey now, don’t be like that! C’mon, crabby, I was only joking. Besides, that’s one of the good ones!” She says, one hand reaching out to your upper arm; you turn, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Seriously? You’ve read this before?” She nods earnestly, all eight of her pupils staring right at you. “Name the main character.”

“Vismez Agnete, blue blood,” She rattles off, absently tucking a piece of hair behind the point of her ear. “Seriously, Vantas, for once I’m not lying to you. This is one of my favorites!” You huff and wrap your earbuds absently around your fingers. It’s… weird that Vriska is talking about this with you. Not unwelcome, exactly, but still weird. 

In the past couples months, Vriska had been getting at...something between you two. You’d been sure she and Eridan were rekindling their kismesistude, but considering how she’s been treating you, you’re starting to wonder if she’s angling for something between the two of you. Or maybe she wants you to auspiticize between the two of them. Who knows? 

Because Vriska has been getting into your space and teasing you, poking your stomach and sides and back and laughing, making jabs about you and Dave (who you are very decidedly NOT flushing for, thank you very much) and you and Terezi (which is rich, considering she and Terezi have been matesprits for like two sweeps now) and generally being an annoying goddamn nuisance. She hasn’t started pretending to be Mindfang again like when you were kids, thank god, but she’s still getting everywhere in your space. And now she’s in your bedroom, interrupting your recreation time, and trying to make conversation about goddamn erotica, for Christ’s sake. 

Oh, shit, she’s been talking this whole time and you have decidedly NOT been listening to what she’s saying, and now she’s staring at you, a little too intensely for your tastes. You feel heat creeping into your face, and she laughs, and says “Oh my god, you really got none of that, huh? Too busy thinking about your favorite part of the book, maybe?” You furrow your brows and prepare yourself to go on a tirade of how you were only listening for the literature aspect, but she waves a hand and brushes your almost-statements off. “Chill, chill, baby! I can’t blame you, I got off to this book like, eight times,” she says, and when you choke on your own spit she grins widely, showing off sharp fangs. “Hey, there’s no shame in masturbation, crabby. I mean, it’s not like we don’t both do it, right?” She’s staring you down again with dark, dark eyes and a dangerous-looking smile on her face, and you sputter something incomprehensible.

In one fluid movement she’s towering over your chair, her long arms caging you in, her horns casting long, dark shadows over your face. “Well, Vantas, don’t you? You have to jerk off sometime, right?” She asks, and her shirt is dipping low enough you can see her collarbones and for some reason that’s all you can focus on, the sharp hollow of it, and you wonder what it would feel like to bite her there. 

“Fuck off, Vriska,” you mumble, trying to shove some of your usual fire into your voice, but her prescense above you feels like it’s muffling you, smothering the flames. Subduing you. 

“Oh, but Karkat,” she croons, sliding lower so you’re almost face to face, “I don’t think you really do want me to leave, do you?” She drags her hands down your arms, nails scratching hard enough to draw blood, and you hiss in pain, twitching aimlessly in her grip. She smirks and does it again, digging deeper into your skin on the second pass, and you shudder, make some pathetic whining sound. 

“Kaaaaaaaar-kat,” she hisses, dragging your name out on her tongue like she’s savoring it. “C’mon. Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” You groan, and she clutches your wrists so hard it feels like you’re being stabbed. Vriska leans forward, brushes her lips against your jaw. “You’re so observant of quadrants. Haven’t you seen this coming?” She’s right, and she’s smug as hell about it, leaving disgusting, wet kisses along your jawline. You whine, push against her hold, but she keeps you pinned down, strong and steady and painful. Your bulge is starting to wriggle inside of your pants, uncomfortable and sticky and you _really_ didn’t think it would be happening this fast. 

Vriska slides down to your neck, biting and then sucking, hard, like she’s some sort of fucking rainbow drinker trying to suck your blood, but it still makes you bring in a shaky, shuddering breath, and you can feel her grin against your neck. Your fingers twitch uselessly, and you moan something that sounds enough like her name that she pulls back to look at you, licking her lips and smiling widely at you. It isn’t until her face shifts that you notice the wetness gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh my god, are you actually _crying?_” She asks, and you can’t see her through your tears but you can tell she’s fighting back a smile, and her hands leave your wrists to come up and stroke your face, wiping away tears a little too roughly. You sniffle, and she coos, her fingertips pressing into your cheekbones, just shy of being painful. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” she murmurs, and you growl low in your throat. You hate her. You _hate_ her. Then her hand leaves your face, and you almost instinctively follow it, until it lands on your left cheek in an open-handed slap, _hard_, and you keen as she goes back to massaging your stinging face. “Good, good boy,” she says, peppering kisses over your forehead and smushing your cheeks, still wet with tears. It’s embarrassing. It’s stupid, it’s stupid as hell is what it is. And you’re so turned on. Fucking ridiculous. You can feel how wet you are and it makes you want to curl up and hide away from her, but she’s got your face in her palms and she’s bringing it closer to her own, to press your lips together, salty with tears.

Vriska is a really, REALLY good kisser. You dazedly think about how lucky Terezi is that she gets this whenever she wants, but Vriska settles on your lap, her long, long legs straddling your soft hips, and grabs your horns to yank you closer, suddenly violent. She’s not shy with her teeth, grabbing your bottom lip and biting, hard, making you moan into her mouth as your hips buck up against hers, and she grips your horns tighter, as if she’s trying to somehow get you closer. This, this is what kismesises kiss like, you realize, and you skate your hands up her sides, reaching up blindly to grasp for her horns. She growls against your lips and one of her fangs slices your tongue, sharp as-well, as a fang, you guess. Nothing you’ve been bitten by has been as sharp or as deadly as Vriska. 

Her hands thread through your hair, pulling hard, scratching your scalp enough that it hurts, and you mimic the motion, your fingers running through her long, black hair until she moves one hand to grab your wrist. She shoves it under her shirt and you get the idea pretty fast, reaching up to her rib cage to scrape your nails over her grubscars. She arches into the touch, gasping into your mouth, and you work them over more until she’s writhing under your hands, kiss broken to mouth along your jaw. She cups the back of your neck, tugging at the soft, fine hairs there, as she bites your earlobe, moves up to the point of it and sinks a fang into it, and it feels like a fucking needle and you gasp, one hand leaving Vriska’s body and reaching down to the front of your pants where your bulge is practically screaming for freedom. 

Vriska pulls back, kisses you again and slides down between your legs, hooks her nails in the waistband of your pants. Her eyes meet yours, and she sticks out her tongue. You laugh, breathless and distracted, until she says “This is going inside of you, you know that?” And pulls your pants off, wriggles them off your ankles and tosses them across the room. Then, almost as an afterthought, she pulls her own shirt off, untangles it from her horns and throws it behind her. Her hair falls in a dark sweep behind her, and you lean forward to touch the strap of her black, lacy bra that looks horribly impractical. She slaps your hand away, probably a little harder than necessary, and tuts at you. 

“Jesus, don’t be a-don’t be a fucking cocktease, Serket, just-“ you grumble, leaning forward again to try and grab her horns, but she leans back, smiling cheekily, one hand on your hip and the other sneaking up the inside of your thighs.

“Nope, nope nope nope, not yet, baby, I’m calling the shots here,” she laughs, rubbing at your thighs. “And since you decided to be rude, guess you gotta wait a little more, huh?” She grabs your bulge through your underwear and you suck in a breath, her touch agonizingly light and not even kind of what you need right now. But it’s still something, and you try not to arch into the sensation. Vriska laughs, cold and sharp, and pulls her hand back to reach down her own shorts and moan, too loud, as she strokes her own bulge. You whimper and watch her hand move, her hips gliding with the motion in a smooth, practiced back-and-forth. “Don’t you wish I was touching you like this, Vantas?” She asks, a slight shake to her voice the only clue she’s even affected by any of this. “Wouldn’t you rather be the one getting off, getting _fucked_ like the bitch you are, huh?” You moan, your hands still clutching the arms of the chair while your hips shake. “Answer me,” she growls, her wrist twisting, and you nod fervently. “Out loud, Karkat,” and you gasp.

“Yes,” you whisper, and Vriska nods, taking a dripping blue hand out and pulling your underwear down, reaching forward to tangle her fingers through your bulge. “Yes, _fuck_,Vriska, please,” you whine, and she reaches her other hand down to slide two fingers over the outside of your nook, mumbling something about how wet you are before she slides them in to the knuckle and you moan so hard your voice cracks. Vriska scoots forward and mouths along the seam where your bulge meets your body, her fingers pumping in and out of your nook steadily, nails scraping just hard enough to hurt, and it makes sparks hurdle through your nerves, making you twitch and shudder and slide forward, which only makes it worse because there’s more contact, and she licks up the underside of your bulge. 

You look down at her and her face is dripping red, her eyes unfocused and hooded, her mouth open as she gasps for air. Shit. You only look for a minute before she guides one of your hands to her hair and pushes your legs apart, moving down to lick along the dripping seam of your nook. “Fuck, Vriska,” you moan, and she presses her tongue inside of you, next to her fingers, and you practically scream. Your stomach is starting to tense, and Vriska runs her fingertips through the trail of soft black hair on your abdomen, looping her free hand around the base of your bulge and letting it fuck into the loose circle of her fist. Oh my god, you’re close, and Vriska’s nose is rubbing right up against the little knot at the top of your nook that sends fire dancing through your veins, and her tongue and fingers are doing something unimaginable inside of you that’s bringing you closer to the brink with every movement. 

You tighten your grip in her hair, throwing your head back against the chair. “Vriska,” you moan, your legs shaking as she fucks you harder, dirtier. She pulls her face back and looks at you expectantly, and you whisper, “Close,” and watch as she grins, sliding another two fingers inside of you and curling them, making you warble, which is, frankly, a weird noise to make during sex, but it only seems to spur her on until she’s working you through your orgasm, her fingers pumping slowly and her tongue still working the root of your bulge as your genetic material spurts around her fingers, into her mouth. She’s practically drinking it, and she shoves one hand back down her shorts as her pace on your bulge slows, then stops.

Your breathing is shaky, but you lean forward, plant your head between her horns, forehead on her soft hair. “Shit, Vriska, holy shit,” you mumble, and her breathing hitches, her hand speeding up fractionally. You slide off the chair, down onto the floor, your hands still holding her horns, and you shimmy her shorts and panties off of her, slide them off her ankles and toss them aside. She doesn’t let go of her bulge the whole time, bright cerulean pre-material dripping down over her fingers. She mumbles something and you lean forward, one hand reaching down to stroke along her jaw. “What was that?” 

Quick as a whip, one of her (wet, UGH) hands reaches up to push through your hair, drag you a couple of inches closer to her. “Keep talking,” she breathes, other hand slipping down to her nook. 

“What?” She growls, fingers cinching around your face like a vise. 

“I said keep talking, idiot. You never shut up most of the time, what the fuck’s the issue here?” She hisses, her fangs bared but her eyes squeezed shut. You huff out a laugh and press your foreheads together. 

“I can talk. Do you want some help otherwise, or-“ she growls when you reach a hand towards her bulge. 

“I can-I can do it. Here, uh-“ she reaches back to unclip her bra, and you help slide it off her shoulders. “Keep yourself busy with these bad boys,” she orders, fangs gleaming when she smiles, and you nod silently. When your thumbs ghost over her nipples she shudders and arches into your touch, which you take as an invitation to roll over them, gently, and she moans softly, her wrist twitching on her bulge. “Talk!” She barks, and you nod, your hands moving up and down her rib cage. 

“Fuck, Vriska. I don’t think I’ve ever-I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.” She nods, eyes closed, and you pinch her nipples, press a kiss against her neck. “I mean, holy shit, did you see that? I was-Jesus, Vriska, that was so hot. I don’t know how I could ever even _think _of anybody else, now that I’ve had your hands inside me.” She moans, barely even audible over the wet, sinful sound of her fingers in her own nook, and you move your hands down to her grubscars, scratching over them nightly with your nails. “Fuck, you were so good, Vriska. By far the best fuck I’ve ever had. All I’m gonna be able to think about, for days, probably. I’m not gonna get anything done because I won’t be able to stop thinking about your fingers in my nook.” She moans again, louder, and her other hand reaches down to jerk herself off, fast, frenzied. 

“Seriously, I’m just gonna have to spend all day for the next goddamn week locked in here, fucking myself and wishing it were you. So good, Jesus, where’d you even learn to do that? I’m not gonna be able to have sex ever again because all I’ll think is, ‘Wow, remember when Vriska ate your nook like a starving woman and you almost fell off of your chair because of how hard you came?’ You’ve cursed me, Serket, you know that?” With a breath that sounds something like your name, Vriska shudders through her own orgasm, pulls you in for a sweat-sticky kiss that tastes like your own jizz, and it’s kind of gross but also pretty hot, so you accept it. But then she wipes her hand on your stomach and nope, nope, that’s fucking it. You yank back and watch Vriska gasp for air through her laughter, shaking off her gross hands.

“Oh my god that was PRICELESS, Vantas,” She cackles, climbing to her feet and offering you a hand, which you decline, because it’s sticky and covered in bright blue jizz. No fucking thanks. You can stand on your own, which you do, pulling yourself up by the arm of the chair. Vriska towers over you, and suddenly you realize you don’t know what to do. Neither of you are wearing pants; your sweater is pushed up, and you awkwardly pull it back down. 

Vriska appears to have no such post-hookup dilemma, and grabs a shirt from the back of your desk chair and pulls it over her head; it’s more like a crop top on her, since she’s so much bigger than you. She grabs her shorts and steps into them, leaving them loose, riding low on her lean hips. She leans down and kisses your forehead before she turns to the door. 

“Next time, you’re riding my thigh, and you’re also coming at least three more times,” she says, and you sputter uselessly. She winks at you and saunters out. It isn’t until you’re standing in your room alone, half-naked, arms stinging, that you realize she left a bright blue cumstain on your fucking carpet.

**Author's Note:**

> in conclusion: we irritating!


End file.
